Oh Brother Mine
by WeLostTouch
Summary: Blood runs thicker than water, but what happens when relationships are strained by separation, death, mistakes, and the inability to forgive. Gilbert loves and hates as he grows up. Blood bonds are tested as brothers' search for acceptance from one another while tragedy lurks behind every twist and turn. Can they find a happy ending? M for violence and language
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"_Vati, what are you holding?"_

"_Family, Gilbert."_

"_Family… What is that?"_

"_It's what connects us together. Your blood is my blood. Our blood is there blood. Through blood we carry the legacy of our ancestors and though it we shall live on through future kin to come."_

_Gilbert looked up at the blond hair and blue eyes in his vati's arms. They looked more like his vati than he did, but they were all family. Brothers._

Xx

Gilbert stared up at the top of his tent unaware of the fact that he was already awake. The dream was his earliest memory of his adorable little brother. Lately, it was becoming a nightly reoccurrence. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he reached for his white tunic lying in a crumpled pile next to his boots.

After getting dressed, he poked his head out of his tent's flap to find that the sun had yet to crest over the horizon. A mischievous grin spread across his lips. He took a deep breath before partaking in his early morning ritual.

"Fuck you, sun! I win again!"he belted out for all the world to hear. "The brilliant me has risen in triumph while you're still sluggishly climbing out of be-"

A solider grabbed him from behind and closed his mouth tightly with one hand. "God bless it, Gilbert. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your voice down?"

Gilbert licked the man so he would remove his large hand from Gil's mouth. "Damn it… still not the first to rise."

"Your shouting wakes up half of the troops, but in foreign lands you'll wake up every enemy, dead or alive."

"But I have to let the sun know that I won." Gilbert crossed his arms and nodded matter of factly. "How else will I know that it lost to the majestic me?"

"Do you even know what the word majestic means?"

"Of course I do!" he replied, offended that the man should even have to ask. "It means me. Obviously you underestimate my majesticalnessicity."

The solider pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned deeply. "Just make yourself useful and beat up today's nation."

"Who is it? Who is it?" Gilbert's eyes widened with excitement. He loved getting into fights with other nations. The spectacular him never lost. "Is it that Hungary guy? I haven't beaten him up in a long time."

"Today we are fighting Lithuania, so do us a favor and take care of their nation for us."

"Yes, sir," Gil replied all too eagerly before running off into the forest.

Charging head long into the unknown, Gilbert let out his best war cry. Then he kept running, and running, and running… and running until he stumbled to a not so graceful stop. With his hands resting on his knees, he panted heavily while trying to catch his breath. "This Lithuania guy sure is a coward. He hasn't even come out to face me."

"Is that a ghost over there?"

Gilbert's hand immediately flew for his sword… or at least where his sword would have been if he had not forgotten it in his tent when he ran out of camp. He put extra bravado in his voice to cover up his mistake. "Who dares to call the amazing me a ghost?"

"The ghost spoke…" a voice from behind him stated.

Gilbert whirled around to face his new opponent. A boy with shoulder length brown hair and fascinated blue eyes was staring at him. "The spectacular me is not a ghost."

"Then why do you wear all white?" the boy asked.

"Because I am the good guy."

"Why do you wear a cape?"

"Because I am a knight."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Are you too stupid to recognize a knight when you see one?"

"But I thought knights were supposed to have swords."

"…" Gilbert clenched his fists. No one made a fool of him. No one. "What is your name?"

"Toris Lori-"

"No!" Gil quickly closed the gap between them getting close enough to the boy to make him take a defensive step back. "You're a nation, aren't you?"

"Yes…"

"What is your nation name?"

"I am Lithuania."

A wolfish smile formed while eyes glinted in the green dappled light of the spring nourished forest. He eyed the boy's green shirt and mossy brown pants. They served as perfect camouflage for their environment. When he ran past the boy, he did not notice him at all. Such a sneaky, cowardice nation this boy was. "Well, Lithuania, let me tell you something."

The Lithuanian nation backed up into a tree. He looked like a cornered animal. "W-w-what is that?"

Gilbert didn't need a sword for this one. The boy simply curled into a ball and let himself get knocked around. However, he did cry, and that was enough to satisfy Gilbert. While the boy was still lying on the ground, Gil trotted off cackling victoriously. "You'll remember today as the day that the glorious –not a ghost- me beat you to a pulp."

With victory in the bag, Gilbert raced back to camp in search of praise. When he got there, the troops were already celebrating their own victory. He ducked and weaved between the maze of merry men until he found the captain sitting in his tent with a large map spread over a wooden crate.

"Praise the honorable me!" Gilbert exclaimed while slamming his fists on the crate for emphasis.

One solider rolled his eyes while another messaged his temples, but the captain ruffled up Gil's hair. He seemed to have a much higher tolerance for Gilbert's childish behavior than the rest of the men. Probably because he was the only one that saw him not only as a nation, but as the child nation that he was. The captain met Gil's antics with a "boys will be boys" philosophy.

"You did well today, Gilbert." With a brief smile, the captain playfully punched the boy's shoulder. That was Gil's favorite part about being a knight; the moment when his commanding officer would praise him at the end of a good day.

"Umm, sir…"

"Yes, Gilbert?" The older man did not look up from the map, but Gilbert knew he was listening.

"Do you think that I could maybe, probably, possibly –"

"Out with it," another solider demanded.

Gilbert glared at the man who had dared to order him around. "May I visit my little brother, sir? He is staying with my cousin, in Austria. The visit would be short, I swear."

His captain let out an old man's sigh. This was never a good sign for any of Gilbert's requests. "Gilbert now is not a good time to have you running off on your own. There will be more fighting in the morning. We can't have our prized solider missing from the fray. It would be best to wait for more peaceful times."

"But that's what you said last time," Gilbert muttered under his breath. He felt flattered being called a prized fighter, but it was over a year since he last saw his little brother.

"As I said, we will need your help in the next fight. You must stay here."

"You heard the captain," a tall broad shouldered solider interjected. "If you're done causing a fuss, get back to your bunk."

Shooting his sharpest glare at the mountain of a man, Gil hoped for something more from the captain. When he did not add anything further, Gilbert knew the discussion was closed. Begrudgingly, he walked back to his tent on the edge of the camp.

"They never let me do what I want," he pouted. Reaching through his tent flap and feeling around, Gilbert found the sword that he had left behind that morning. "But someone as extraordinary as myself cannot be bothered with such restrictions."

He left the military camp unnoticed. It was easy enough due to his unparallel stealth and impeccable good luck. It took a couple days travel, but he managed to arrive at his cousin's house just as the last lights were being put out for the night. His little brother's room was on west wall's third story. Luckily, there were dense climbing ivy vines growing up that side of the house. Gilbert tugged a couple of the vines to test if they could handle his weight. The green ropes pulled tight, but gave no sign of breaking. Taking a deep breath of courage, Gil climbed his way up to the third story window. Perched on the outer sill, he tried to get his brother's attention.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

"Pst… H.R., you awake?"

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Pst… H.R."

_ . TAP._

"H.R., you awa- Agh!"

The window being pushed open made him lose his balance. Swinging his arms like a windmill, Gil managed to grab a sturdy vine. He had not noticed how high off the ground the third story was until he glanced over his shoulder. If he was not _heroically fearless_, he might have admitted it was a frightening experience.

"Gilbert?" a sleepy pair of blue eyes asked. "What are you doing here?"

Gil smiled as he swung his leg over the window sill. "I've come to visit my favorite little brother in the whole wide world."

H.R. looked at him with an unimpressed stare. "Do you know what time it is?"

Gilbert scooped up his little brother and proceeded to spin in circles until his little brother's protests threatened to wake somebody. He dropped the young nation on the overly stuffed bed. "And do you know how long it took me to get here? How far I had to travel? Isn't that stuffy wuss teaching you any manners?"

"I'm sorry, Gilly." H.R. was fully awake now and happy to have his older brother's company. "Do you have any new stories?"

"Do _I_ have any new stories?" Gilbert laughed. He recanted tales of his adventures with the Teutonic Knights. Red eyes gleamed as they reminisced while blue eyes widened as they listened to romanticized tales of battle. "Why just the other day I kicked the savage Lithuania's ass completely unarmed."

"Really?" the enthralled younger nation asked.

"Of course really; do you take me for some sort of liar?"

"Wow… Gilly, you're-"

"Amazing?" Gilbert interrupted. "Spectacular? Glorious? Mejestical?"

"Awesome!" H.R. answered. "You get to travel to awesome place, fight awesome battles with awesome knights, and wear an awesome cape. You're so awesome, Gilly!"

"Hmm," Gilbert stroked his chin and smiled. "I suppose I am pretty awesome."

"You're the most awesome person I know."

"Of course I am." He ruffled up his brother's neatly slicked back hair. "I am the very essence of awesome. I sweat pure awesomeness."

H.R.'s eyes began to droop again. He yawned so hard that Gilbert could not help but imitate it. The younger brother grabbed the elder's sleeve and held it close. "Do you have to leave?"

The question tugged at Gil's heartstrings. "Sorry, H.R., but the Knights are going to need their prized fighter. What are they going to do without my awesomeness?"

"I don't want you to go." H.R. held the sleeve tight in his small hands. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

"I think that will be okay…" Truth of the matter was that Gilbert was a sucker for his little brother and could not refuse such an easy request. "Scoot over and make some room."

When Gilbert made himself comfortable, H.R. instantly curled up beside him. "Tell me a story," he demanded, "one about Father."

A knot formed in Gilbert's throat. He still had not forgiven their vati for separating them. What kind of father sent his sons away to live in different homes? Still, he could not deny his little brother's childish desire.

"Have I ever told you about the time Vati a white hart during one of his hunting trips?"

H.R. shook his head lazily while mumbling something that vaguely resembled the word no. Gilbert ran his fingers through his brother's fine yellow hair. The younger nation yawned. "Well, as he was tracking the prints of a great boar rumored to roam the forests of the southern range, a storm struck without warning. Water fell from the sky like ice cold pebbles. Vati, unprepared for the change in weather took shelter among the roots of a large tree. He was forced to stay there for three days until the storm let up enough for him to venture back into the woods. As he stepped out of his temporary home, he saw a pure white stag walking in the early morning light. He raised his bow to take aim, but the hart locked eyes with Vati. For a moment they stood there absolutely still. Neither one moved a muscle or even dared to breath. Vati was the first to break the spell by putting down his bow. The dear bowed deeply to Vati before running off into the forest."

A soft snore caught Gilbert's attention. He looked down at his younger brother who was deep in the blissful realm of sleep. Gently rustling his brother's hair one more time, Gil climbed out of bed and returned to the windowsill. "Good night, H.R."

The climb back down the wall was not any easier than the climb up it. It took most of his nerve not to look down or freeze up every time a breeze lightly stirred the green leaves around him. When his feet finally touched back down on solid ground, he was all too glad.

"You don't need to sneak in to see him like this, you know."

Gilbert drew his sword and whirled around.

"Put that away, you idiot." His cousin Roderich was watching him with his often unimpressed gaze. The two of them never really got along and one of Gil's biggest reasons was the "high than thou" attitude that seemed to ooze from his cousin's pores. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Holy Rome has lessons first thing in the morning. How is he going to focus if you visit him at unholy hours of the night?"

"If I come during the day, you'll just call my vati and I'll be forced back into _that_ house." Gilbert spat on the ground between them, but put the sword back in its sheath. "Is it safe to assume you already plan on telling him I was here tonight?"

"The messenger was just sent out. He'll know by first light." Roderich placed one hand on his hip. "You know if you just accepted being raised to claim your own nation, you wouldn't have to sneak visits like this. It would save me a lot of hassle as well."

"Psht. As if I'd agree to become some prissy aristocrat like you. I don't need a nation. I have the Knights. It's much more fun to be with them than learning diplomacy and what not."

His cousin let out a short disapproving sigh. "You're to near sighted, Gilbert."

Gil flinched. He hated hearing his name fall out of the Austrian boy's mouth. "And what do you mean by that four eyes? I have perfect vision."

"I mean you do not plan for the long term. Sure you may have to put up with some things you dislike at first, but if you take your place as a nation I'm sure Germania will acknowledge you as more than just some ne'er-do-well child. For instance, did you ever consider that when you become a full-fledged nation that you may be able to take Holy Rome under your wing?"

Gilbert eyed his cousin warily. The thought never had occurred to him, but he wouldn't let the smug bastard know that. It pained him to acknowledge, but the thought of being reunited with H.R. was appealing. However, his hate for what his vati called education was a definite deterrent. "You think my vati would let me care for H.R. instead of leaving him here with you?"

"It would make sense since you two are brothers." Roderich shrugged his shoulders. "It's a definite possibility. I don't mind keeping an eye on him if you cannot handle strain of being a nation. He has been growing into a fine young gentleman since he came here. Unlike you…"

"Pansy!" Gilbert cried in anger. "I'll show you just how great a nation I can become! I'll never let H.R. become a soft weakling like you!"

"Is that so," he quirked an eyebrow condescendingly. "Then prove it, Gilbert."

"I will!" With fire burning in his eyes, Gilbert stormed past his cousin making sure their shoulders collided as he stomped by.

"Where do you think you're heading off to? You're father will be out looking for you. I doubt you will make it back to your precious knights before he finds you."

"He doesn't have to come looking for me!" Gil yelled back at him. "I'm going to find him first."

If h bothered paying attention he would have hear Roderich reply with "You are going the wrong way, idiot," but he was much too awesome to bother listening to his unawesome cousin.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was not like he had gotten lost. His vati's men just happened to find him before he made it back home. As the rosy fingertipped dawn stretched its pale beams over the deep green canopy of the ancient forest, the sound of heavy hooves pounding the ground herald in the day. Gilbert turned around to face the stampeding horsemen without fear or worry. Throwing their heads back screaming, the horses reared to a stop surrounding him from all sides. One man with a heavy beard hailed him from the top of his mount.

"Young Master Gilbert," his thundering voice reverberated off the bark of nearby trees as he addressed the wandering boy, "by order of your vati, we are to take you to him at once. If you are to resist, we are to take you by force."

"It's about time you dimwits showed up!" Gilbert hissed. His eyes were blood shot and irritated from lack of sleep making them far redder then average. When he spoke, pain strangled each word. "I've been walking all night and you didn't have the common decency to pick me up? I command you to take me directly to Vati. I demand an audience with him as soon as we get there. Send a runner ahead. I don't want to spend any time waiting. It's bad enough that I have to be there at all without wasting unnecessary moments in that house."

The riders looked at each other somewhat astounded at the sudden orders given by a child. After a careful glance to the bearded man, one rider turned back toward the direction the had come from in a swift canter. Another rider offered his hand to lift Gilbert up onto his saddle, but Gil waved it away.

"You there!" He pointed at the man he assumed was in charge. "Since you were too inconsiderate to bring me my own horse, I will ride with you."

"As you wish."

No matter what anyone says, he did not sleep during the ride. His eyelids were weighted with fatigue and he simply had mild difficulty holding them open. The horse rode smoothly across the wooded landscape with its strong moist breath shrouding its riders in a lukewarm mist. Gil's head bobbed about as he struggled in an unseen battle with sleep deprivation. Just as it seemed the curtain of slumber would seal his weary eyes he felt his body being lifted off the saddle by the rider. Gilbert wobbled slightly when he was placed on solid ground.

"Young Gilbert," a familiar yet aged voice called. "Gilbert, it is so good to see you again. How have you faired these past years?"

Gil eyed the old man before him. "Mr. Fredrik?"

A slight gleam reflected in the man's hollow old eyes. "I'm honored that you can recognize me. I guess you could say I have aged a bit since we last saw each other."

Gilbert knew Mr. Fredrik when he was a young man of twenty. At that time he was training him in horseback and was by far Gil's favorite tutor. In fact, he was the only tutor that Gil could stand. Looking at the man now he felt somewhat sad. If his estimate was right, the man should be nearly seventy. Part of Gilbert's heart was hurt to see the state of the man. Nations lived far longer than normal humans and this was the first time the boy had to face the cruelty of this fact. The feeling would have to be pushed back until a more appropriate time. Every second he wasted here would increase the chances of him being forced to stay.

"Mr. Fredrik, has my audience with Vati been arranged."

"The message of your arrival has already been brought to his attention." The elder looked down at the boy with a look almost like pity. Gilbert would not acknowledge it as pity out of respect for the man. It simply resembled the disgusting emotion. "Perhaps you should rest before seeing him. You look worn from your travels."

"I will not sleep here," Gil hissed unintentionally. Regaining composure he cleared his throat. "I have business that I most settle with the old man then I will leave again."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you like to meet with-"

"I am only here to see Vati!" Sleep had made him irritable and his patience was reaching its threshold. Gilbert marched forward intent on reaching his vati's receiving hall. "Please understand that I cannot stay here."

"Then allow me to announce you to him," Mr. Fredrik responded as he easily caught up to the boy's smaller strides.

Puffing up his chest and standing up straight, Gilbert held his head high as was to be expected of an awesome warrior such as himself. The hall was mostly barren aside from a few of his vati's trusted men and the ancient nation himself. Sitting on top of a high backed wooden chair, Vati looked unaffected by the changing centuries. His long blonde hair was thick with little signs of receding while his crystal blue eyes remained sharp and alert. If it was not for the unforgivable act of separating the brothers, Gilbert would have been proud to call the strong man his vati. When they approached the man, Mr. Fredrik knelt down on one knee -which must have been difficult at his age- while Gil stood prideful only swaying softly from exhaustion.

"Master Germania, I present to you your son, young Master Gilbert."

"Thank you." Germania's eyes stared narrow at his son. "You may leave me to deal with this… son of mine."

Bowing his head low, Mr. Fredrik left Gil's side and with that leaving him in the lions' den without a shield. Gilbert tried to stop his slight sway by locking his knees to center his gravity, but failed. He instead placed his hands on his hips steady himself.

"You've been gone for decades, and as soon as you are caught you order around my men?" Germania's voice was stern with a strong paternal tone. "You are acting rather high and mighty for a brat that was dragged back home."

"Ha! The awesome me could not be dragged here," Gilbert retorted. "I came here to claim my inheritance."

His vati smirked. "So you came here willingly to resume your lessons? I must say that I am certainly surprised."

"Like hell I would."

Vati's eyes darkened. Gil could see anger boiling just beneath the surface of those pale translucent eyes. His sixth sense alerted him to the danger that was stirring in the dark recesses of the man's mind.

"Then by what right do you come here expecting me to hand you a nation?" Germania's voice dropped to a low rumble. "A spoiled brat like you has not proven your worth. You would crumble beneath the weight of that responsibility."

Gilbert had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling. His pride swelled like an angry tide inside his chest. Clenching his fists at his sides, he felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle up. When he spoke his words were heavy with the sarcasm that only a haughty youth could muster. "You're confidence in me is as reassuring as always. With such unconditional support it's a wonder why I ever thought of leaving. Perhaps I should roll over like a pup and submit to your unrivaled wisdom."

The man's fist slammed on the arm of his seat. "That's enough out of you, whelp."

If nothing else, Gilbert did receive his vati's temper; mixed with a lack of sleep made his tongue bolder than usual. "Psht! I'm complimenting you old man."

"For one so small, you talk big." A vein on Germania's brow began to protrude dangerously. "Where ever did you learn such pointless bravado?"

Gilbert hand flew to his sword and unsheathed the blade without a second thought. "I am a knight. I have no need for bravado."

Just as fast a he pulled out his blade, a dozen men drew their own ready to defend the older nation. Germania held his hand up to signal them to put down their weapons. He stood up from his chair and strode toward his son like a wolf stalks its prey. Their eyes locked. A duel for dominance was being waged in between their heated stare. The experience of time was pit against the arrogant stubbornness of the young. Without Gilbert's notice the man wrapped his strong fingers around the wrist of the hand wielding arms. His grip tightened until Gil winced and released his sword.

"Hmph… and here I thought you were strong."

"I am," Gilbert managed to squeeze out through grit teeth. He would not admit that his wrist was aching or that there were painful tears resting precariously at the corners of his eyes.

A wicked smile formed on his vati's face. "That's what I thought you would say." Germania let go of the small withering hand in his hand. His smile stretched tighter. "I am a decent man, so I think I have come up with a compromise we both can agree to."

Gilbert remained silent.

"You have be gallivanting around with those white capes like some vigilante for some time now. I would have expected to hear you have climbed the ranks, but instead my sources tell me you are nothing more than their attack dog. Prove to me that you can command a people and earn their trust. If you can earn their loyalty and build a kingdom, I will bestow upon you your inheritance."

Eyeing his father suspiciously, Gil considered the offer. The fact that his vati suggested the offer must be because the man doubted his ability to succeed. There was no other reason to forget about the tutors or the suffocating lessons in diplomacy. Someone as awesome as him would not back down to such a challenge. A chance like this may never come again after all.

"If I agree to this… You won't send me back to that house of tutors or force me to stay here? I'll get to do as I please without having to answer to you."

"That's right." Germania returned to his seat and rested his chin lazily on his knuckles as he leaned against the arm rest of his ornate chair. "However, if you fail to earn the hearts of your comrades or lead them into ruin I will see to it that you will never inherit a nation of your own."

Gilbert's suspicion was confirmed and he was going to show his vati just how wrong he was. Stepping forward and kneeling, Gil rested his hand on his chest. "I accept your offer, old man. Have my title ready. It shouldn't take me too long."

"Honestly," his father pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't know where you got that cocky attitude."

"I'm simply that awesome."

"Shameless to boot." His vati sighed. Clearing his throat, the man's voice returned to a paternal tone. "Gilbert, as a father I want to see you grow into a strong nation. That's why I went through the trouble of giving you the best training I could offer. It's your own free-wheeling spirit that set you on this path. I once thought I could do it on my own just as you do now, but the path was long and harsher than I could have imagined. I thought that by setting you on a different road you would get to avoid all that…"

Gil was too tired to bother with the rest of the fatherly lecture. His head spun slowly while his vati went on and on. Finally the sentence he longed to hear fell from the ancient man's lips. "You may leave now."

Spending no time thinking, the boy swiftly exited the hall; away from ever watching eyes. He ran through the courtyard in a dash for the family stables. As he rushed past blurred forms, a small voice barely stood out amongst the sound of his pulse rushing in his ears.

"Gilly?"

Ignoring the voice, Gilbert continued his breakneck sprint for the stables. He couldn't wait to get away from here. Lurking in the shadow of his vati was a sin that Gilbert could never forgive. A presence echoed off of the walls that he would rather forget than confront. Mounting the first horse he could find, Gilbert steered the beast out of the stables and took off.

Hooves beating the ground made his head throb and each bumpy stride jostled him on top of the horse's bare back. When he could not stand another minute of bouncing through the rough terrain, Gilbert jumped off his steed and faulted on the landing. Thirty-six hours without sleep finally took its toll on his young body. Despite being a young nation, he still needed the same basic needs as any human. Sleep was beckoning and a patch of tall grass would serve as good a bed as any. Eyes blinking slowly, Gil launched from the docks of reality and set off on a sea of unconsciousness.

Xx

Gilbert lost the horse. When he woke up, his ride had apparently kept running after his dismount leaving him stranded in the woods. This made returning to the Knights' field camp difficult. After several days of retracing his steps he managed to find the place they had camped when he left, but it took another three days to find their new camp sight. What he found when he got there was nothing he could have expected.

The camp was in shambles and wounded men were left to wait attention anywhere out of the way. Field medics were franticly running from wounded to wounded tending to what they could before rushing to the next bed. Any man well enough to walk was sent to rest by their bunks. Gilbert couldn't help but notice their numbers were smaller than he remembered.

"Captain," he called as he ran about the half assembled tents. "Captain! Captain are you there?"

He could feel cold eyes follow him as he ran. The smell of blood was heavy in the air creating an unexplainable anxiety in the panicked boy. His heart almost burst when he felt thick arms wrap around him.

"Gilbert!" It was one of the men that was always by the captain's side. "Gilbert where have you been?"

The man was shaking Gilbert making it difficult to speak.

"Where were you? Where did you run off to? Damn it Gilbert what did you do?"

"Where is the captain?" was all he could reply. The confused state of camp threw him into a similar state. He had a million questions of his own buzzing around his head, but this one was the most important. "Where is he?"

"Damn you, Gilbert. The Captain is dead."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Death was a cold lesson for any nation to learn, but its familiarity was vital. People would die regardless of the era; war or peace, famine or plenty, the life of a mortal man was but a puff of smoke in the constant changing times. Every human friend would someday pass and offer a chance for sorrow. Dealing with grief was essential for though every nation loves their people they could not afford to be consumed by the turmoil that always lay in wait under the shadow of tomorrow. With the death of the captain, Gilbert was forced to face this lesson for the first time. He had noticed soldiers died in battle, but they were nameless faces among the masses. His captain was different in that Gilbert looked up to him and held the man in high esteem. During his absence, his hero had been killed in battle.

Everything around him seemed to slow down as his senses dulled. Gilbert felt the blood drain from his face to his toes. He thought he would be boiled alive by the sudden fever that seemed to grasp his body. With numb hands heavy like lead, Gil grabbed the hem of the knight's tunic to steady his spontaneously boneless legs.

"How could this have happened?" He pulled tighter on the tunic. "What do you mean the captain is dead?"

"He was knocked from his horse," the solider began. "Before he could raise from his the mud he was trampled under the melee. The enemy's advance was too strong. We've already lost so many men in the fray and still there are so much more lying in our camp waiting for death. Where in God's good name were you?"

The knight had worked himself into a fit. Tears left clean streaks of skin behind them as they marched down his grungy cheeks. This frightened Gilbert all the more. Crying was a luxury afforded only by women and children. Did a grown man have the right to weep?

When Gil failed to reply the man grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him violently. "Tell me boy! What were you doing? What were you doing that was so important? Was it worth so many lives? Was it worth leaving your men behind to die?"

"That's enough," a strong authoritative voice commanded. It was the dark bearded man that Gilbert often saw beside his captain at the war table. "Let the boy go and return to your bunk."

"Yes, sir." The solider made sure to tighten his grip greatly before releasing Gilbert. He tossed the albino one last scornful look before walking away with a limp.

Even though Gil avoided eye contact, he could feel the weighty stare of the senior officer sweeping over him. The two stood there without uttering a word. In a way, Gilbert found the dark man's silence to be more upsetting than if he were being lectured. It was as if he could feel the man's disgust pouring down on him like heavy rain. For a moment the boy forgot all about ever being awesome and instead felt a new unfamiliar emotion oozing out of some unknown pit in his stomach.

"Where is he?" Gilbert asked, pushed by the unnerving silence. "I want to see him. Where is he?"

"I will not permit you to see him."

"I want to see him!" Gil demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Who are you to order me otherwise?"

"For now I am your commanding officer." Gilbert glared at the officer. His hands clenched into tight fists that shook at his sides. "I will not allow a deserter to see out fallen captain. You were given explicit orders to stay with us and you blatantly disobeyed."

"I'll never accept you as a commanding officer! I only serve one captain!" A shrill whining note worked its way in to his speech. Mist moistened the corners of his eyes. "I didn't know that this would happen."

"Your captain is dead. Your ignorance does not excuse the fact that your desertion contributed to this mess. I have the grounds to have you discharged at the very least. Most men would rather see you executed, regardless of your youth."

"Tch…" Gilbert held back a snide remark about how hard it would be to kill someone born to be a nation. He knew he was on extremely thin ice just as he was leaving the starting gate. If he were kicked out this soon after the arrangement with his vati, he would never be able to live it down. It was at that moment that Gilbert did the hardest thing yet in his young life. He swallowed his pride and kneeled down on one knee before the higher ranking solider.

"I apologize for my prior actions. I alone am to blame for the results of my foolishness. Please allow me to continue serving under your command."

The older man advanced and slapped Gilbert upside the head. There was an unmistakable look of loathing in his dark eyes. "Don't think an apology is going to make up for anything!"

Gilbert grabbed his stinging chick and glowered. "I will do anything to stay in your company, sir."

"I won't let you come back with that smug act of yours." With one hand he pushed Gil down onto all fours. Cold mud covered the once white tunic. "Humble yourself when speaking to your superiors. How can I trust someone that would leave their post not to have a repeat performance? How can I trust a solider that shows respect to no one? How are you going to prove to me that you are worth keeping around?"

Gilbert's heart quivered in his small chest. His stomach churned as if he were ill. There was nothing else he could think to do but give the man what he wanted. Lowering his head to the muck, Gil fought against the inner voice screaming obscenities inside his head. "Sir, there is nothing I can do to fix what has already been done. You have every reason to doubt me, but I beg you sir. I swear my absolute loyalty to you and to these troops. Every fiber of my being will serve your commands. All I ask is that you allow me to stay in your company."

Time most have froze because the silence went on without end. With his breath held, Gilbert closed his eyes tight too afraid to look up at the man. The cold seeped through his grimy clothes chilling his skin. Finally the sound of heavy boots stepping in the mud cut through the intolerable silence.

"Set your tent up next to mine." Relief flooded over Gil's body. "I expect you to report to me first thing in the morning. If the sun rises before you do, I'll leave you tied to a tree when we break camp."

"Yes, sir!" The word slipped out of his mouth surprisingly easy, but left a bitter taste on his tongue. Once the muffled sound of the bearded man's steps were out of ear shot, Gilbert pushed himself up from the mud. He shivered where he stood unsure of what to do next. Men were still franticly buzzing about camp with a few darting past him with displeased looks.

That night was not any better. Fires were kept under close guard by men circled up shoulder to shoulder. Supplies were extremely limited leaving him with only a small tent and without a change of clothing. Throughout the night, moans of broken, dying men washed over the camp like waves of phantom regiments. Lying on the cold ground, staring at the side of the tent, Gilbert did not cry.

He did not cry for the death of his captain. He did not cry for the turn of events or the bruising of his pride. He simply lay there remembering the tears shed by the other man when he heard the news of defeat. He was left wondering if men really had the right to shed tears, if that made them weak, if their moaning and sorrow was forgivable in eyes of some greater power. Would he ever be forgiven for his dry eyes that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Gilbert, pack the horse!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Gilbert, see to it the maps are in order!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Gilbert, stop day dreaming and get back to work!"

"Yes, sir!"

Gilbert was not happy with how the new commanding officer was running him around since he returned to the knights. The very next morning a never ending list of orders were barked at him from predawn to late night. His old captain gave him the freedom to run about camp and mingle at leisure with the other men until the occasional mission to hunt down the enemy's nation. Now he could not leave the captain's sights long enough to take a piss before being called forth for another chore. Gil bit his tongue and followed through, but simmered just below the surface. It felt like he had been demoted below the dogs.

"Gilbert!"

"I'm coming, sheesh…" Gil mumbled under his breath as he tromped through the mud. His day was once again ranking among the unawesome. "Yes, sir, how may I help you?"

"What is this?" He held up the map Gil had brought to the war table earlier that morning.

"That's the map you asked for, sir… Are they not to your liking?"

"When was this map drawn up?"

The map was tossed at Gil and nearly landed in the mud. Gil scoured the worn print for the artist's date of completion. "It says fifty years ago, sir."

"I want you to get me a more recent map. There is a mapmaker living in some hovel a few hours ride from here." He tossed a small purse to Gilbert. "It shouldn't keep you longer than the evening. I expect that you'll be back at your post in the morning?"

It felt like angry hornets were having their way in his stomach. Gil knew it would take time to regain the company's trust, but that did not make their stinging comments any more palatable. He tied the purse tight around his belt. Determined not to show his frustration, he stood up straight as an admiral and looked the man straight in the eye. "Yes, sir."

Something unfamiliar could be seen in the captain's eyes. It did not seem to be a negative thing though. Gil dashed through the resting camp avoiding the still cold glances of the men. At least the horses seemed to forgive him. A grey mare greeted him with lowered head. She took the bit and saddle easy enough. With a kick of his heels, they jumped forward into a smooth gallop racing over field and hill.

A few hours ride was not the half of it. By the time Gilbert came across a small wood hut he assumed was the correct hovel he was too saddle sore for words. He brought the mare to a halt and dismounted shaking out his numb legs. The sun sat low on the horizon line casting orange and red over anything in reach.

"Hey! Does anyone live here?" Gil looked around the front of the shack in search of life. His small fist made sharp knocks on the door. "Hey, mapmaker, you dead in there or something? Hey! Heeelloooo? Anybody home? He-"

The door swung open without warning knocking him flat on his butt. "For the love of God, shut the hell up!"

"What the hell was that for?" Gilbert rubbed his sore backside as he stood. He was surprised to find a familiar face staring back at him. "Hungary? What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing out here yelling so loudly?" Hungary* put his hands on his hips. "You really lack in manners, you know…"

"Shut up!" Gil narrowed his eyes. "My new boss told me to come for a new map. So I'm here for the old man."

"Hmph. What happened to your old boss? Did he finally get tired of your clowning around?" His heart turned to stone and sank to the deepest pit of his stomach. He felt sick. Hungary took notice of his sudden clamming up. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

"My boss didn't leave me… He's dead." The words seemed to fall out of his mouth like weights. Somehow the voice was not his own either. "He died because I left my troops behind to visit my brother. I didn't get back in time… They engaged the enemy without me and were-"

His voice cracked. Gilbert clenched his fists tight enough to break the first layers of skin. He could not bring himself to look up at the boy in front of him. "I wasn't there to defend him."

"Did you cry?"

"No."

"Then you are even more of an idiot than I thought. If it's not worth crying over, why beat yourself up." The Hungarian nation grabbed Gil by the shoulders and forced their eyes to meet. "This is not the obnoxious albino I know? Austria told me about your visit to see Holy Rome. You both needed that. And you visited your father, right? That took courage. I know your boss meant a lot to you, but he died in battle. That is an honorable way to go. And so what if you were there? Would that have stopped his death for sure? Men are mortal, Gil."

"But If I was there-"

"But nothing! Is this what the Awesome Gilbert has been reduced to? Nothing more than a blubbering baby moping over things completely out of his control. I bet the sun wakes up before you now, doesn't it? Here I thought you were a warrior. All I see now is a kicked puppy."

"Shut up!"Gilbert snapped fuming with anger. "I am not a kicked dog. I am not a baby. I am a warrior. I am AWESOME!"

Hungary smiled. "That's the hothead I know."

"It is only hot because it radiates pure awesomeness." Gil paused before frowning deeply. "Not that my new boss understands that."

"What is your new boss like?"

"He's no fun at all." He kicked up some dirt to show his frustration. "I used to be allowed to run around freely, but now I'm at that bastard's beck and call. He has my tent pitched next to his. He makes me set up maps and keep ledgers. I have to attend to his armor and sword. I can't take three steps away from him without him giving me another task. He only took me back after forcing me to bow in the mud. I hate him."

The other boy began to laugh. "You really are an idiot. Isn't all that a good thing?"

Gil stared at him confused. "How is all that a good thing?"

"He let you come back after you deserted them once, didn't he? I know men that have hung for less than that. It means he must see some value in you." Hungary knocked his fist on Gil's head teasingly. "And if he is having you do all this work and keeping you near him, I bet that means he trusts you."

"And I'm supposed to be the idiot? How does keeping me under foot mean he trusts me?"

"He's training you, dummy." Hungary hit him again, this time a bit harder. "He's showing you the basics of being a captain in charge of his own troops. I've seen it done with my own countrymen time and time again."

"Training me to be a captain…" A ray of hope seemed to peek through the clouds just for him. "So, I'm not a failure. He just recognizes how truly awesome I am."

Hungary went to hit him a third time, but Gilbert caught him by the wrist. He smiled. "Now you've got it. I guess there is a brain in there somewhere."

"Is the mapmaker in?" Gilbert could not let his important mission be delayed. His knights needed him after all. "I need to see him right away."

Hungary made a troubled face. "Well…"

He led Gilbert inside the hovel. Inside was a dank one room living space. The only source of light came from the twelve candles lit around a rotting wooden desk. Rotting worse than his workspace was the mapmaker. Gilbert was surprised- not scared- when the man looked up from his work and spoke.

"Who's that there?"

Hungary put his hand over his mouth before he could reply. "It's no use. The old man is a deaf as a stone. It'd be better to look for a map elsewhere."

"No!" Gil pushed him aside. "I have a task to complete and I'll be damned if I let a deaf half-corpse get in the way."

"Suit yourself." Hungary sighed and shook his head disapprovingly.

Edging closer to the decaying man, Gilbert glimpsed the beautiful illustrations of the map he was paying such devotion to. When he looked into those grey eyes, he recognized a faint light burning beneath the wisps of new cataracts. A light he saw in his captain's eyes from time to time; one that he often saw in his own reflection. The old man still had pride in his work.

Gil brought forth the small coin purse meant as payment and placed it at the man's feet. Then he knelt on one knee with his head lowered. When he knelt before his vati, it was in mockery. When he knelt before his captain, it was self serving. When he knelt before this man in front of him, he did so in respect. He learned how to kneel, and when he felt a light boney hand rest on top of his head he learned how to stand back up again.

The mapmaker was smiling at him. Though he was missing most of his teeth, it was a warm smile. "What a good boy. You must be a squire. I'm sure your master is very proud of you."

Even though he did not like the thought of having a "master," Gil returned the smile and nodded. He lifted the coin purse so that the man could hold it in his hands.

"Ah, you must be inquiring about one of my maps. I've made maps for kings and lords for many years I'll have you know." The man stood and Gilbert could have sworn he heard the man's bones creak as he moved. He shuffled to a shelf and pulled down a large rolled up map. The weight seemed burdensome, so Gil went to him before the man fell. "This was the last map I completed. It can guide you from the Baltic Sea to Mediterranean and from the face of Portugal to the reach of Asia Minor. I would be honored if your master would use my final work. I'm not like to finish another."

Gilbert gave a short bow as accepted the map. That pleased the man enough. Hungary was watch him with eyes wide. "What are you gaping at?"

"You bowed the knee." The boy gave a loud chortle. "I never would have thought you could be so courteous. Am I ever going to see this side of you again, Gilly?"

"I told you never to call me that!" Hungary was one of the few nations he trusted enough to give his name. Unfortunately his Austrian cousin told him about H.R.'s nick name for Gil. That led to some unwanted teasing. "Only Holy Rome can call me that!"

"Aw, you're turning pink. You do kind of look like a Gillyflower now that I think of it," Hungary laughed.

"Shut up!" Gil swung the map like a sword at the boys head, but he stepped out of the way. "And if you tell anyone about today I'll cut your head off and take your nation as my own."

"Haha," Hungary laughed and placed a friendly hand on Gil's shoulder. Then his face suddenly turned dark. "I'd like to see you try…"

Gilbert felt the muscles in his back tighten up.

"Haha, your face." The boy let go. "You looked like you were going to wet your trousers. Priceless."

"Shut up. I don't have time to waste with stupid nation like you." He stuck his tongue out as he pushed his way through the door. Hungary only laughed and returned the favor.

Night had fallen by the time Gilbert reigned his horse toward camp and the sun would be rising just as he returned, but the ride felt less irksome. A new feeling began spreading in his chest as he galloped through the sleepy woods. He smiled when he could see the soft flickering of cap fires ahead. Riding straight up to the captains quarters, Gil leapt from his saddle and plunged into the tent.

"Christ sakes!" The captain was just getting his tunic pulled over his head when Gil skidded to a stop in front of him. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing sir." Gilbert smiled and gave a salute. "I have the map you requested, sir. The man said it is likely to be that last he ever makes, sir. Here you are, sir."

He took the map with a suspicious look. After unrolling the map on a table made of wood crates, a smile turned the corners of his lips skyward. "You've done well, Gilbert. This is a superb map."

Gilbert could hardly believe the smile was for him. The captain ruffled his hair with a heavy callused hand. "Thank you, sir."

"Grab a few hours rest then come back here. After the men have broken their fast, we will be discussing territories and future assaults. I want you to sit in and take note."

"Yes, sir."

***At this point in the story Gilbert is unaware of the fact that Hungary is a girl. Just go with it. I will address the gender thing later on. Thank you for reading. =)**


End file.
